


Short Skirt, Long Jacket

by owlish_peacock



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 05:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13404708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlish_peacock/pseuds/owlish_peacock
Summary: Jamie receives a welcome surprise at university. Modern Outlander/College AU. One Shot.





	Short Skirt, Long Jacket

_She is fast and thorough_

_And sharp as a tack_

_She’s touring the facility_

_And picking up slack_

_I want a girl with a short skirt and a lonnnnng…. lonnng jacket_

* * *

 

Jamie was surrounded by 200 college freshmen, the odor of illegal alcohol and barely contained sexuality overpowering the small lecture hall. Of course, this was entirely his fault. He had postponed taking this class for three and a half years, only sitting in the crowded room because he wanted very much to graduate on time.

“Transitions.” That’s what they called it. A required course where professionals come in and talk about their careers for nine weeks straight. Trying to convince 18 year olds why taxidermy was right for them. Or something like that. Jamie never paid attention. He already knew his future.

But, attendance was mandatory, and he could stab Professor What’s-His-Face in the eye for that. With a dull pencil.

“Alright, y’all,” Professor Cowboy droned in that ridiculous accent of his. “Our next speaker is a Doctor. A surgeon Give her a hand.”

There was a smattering of claps scattered through the hall.

Yawn. Another doctor. How many had spoken to them at this point? 10? 15? Jamie should have kept a tally. Lord knew he wasn’t doing anything else in this class.

“Thank you. Hello, everyone.” The lilting English accent whispered across Jamie’s ears, a welcome respite from the harsh tones he was used to in America. He tore his eyes away from his doodles to take a peek at this doctor.

She stood about a foot above Professor Whoever, her dark curls stacking an additional two inches. She wore a pristine white lab coat over her blouse and short skirt. Probably shorter than was professionally necessary, but Jamie didn’t mind. She was young and pretty. Younger and prettier than any doctor he’s ever met.

“As Professor Wilkins said, I am Dr. Claire Beauchamp. I am the Chief Surgeon over at Mercy. The youngest they’ve ever had, actually.” Jamie heard the pride in her voice, and felt a similar emotion swell in his chest. “But, let me tell you a bit about what I do. As Chief Surgeon, I have many responsibilities These include…”

Her voice was a song; expressive to a fault, pouring passion and enthusiasm in every word she spoke. Her hands conducted this chorus, moving widely in flourishes and swings. He thought her very much a magician that captivates her audience with a sleight of hand and a charming smile.

“…That was probably the most exciting. Does anyone have any questions?” She looked expectantly at the class, most of them slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Definitely intimidated by this woman. “You! Red hair in the green shirt! Back row!”

The class turned in practiced unison. Only belatedly did Jamie realize she was talking to him.

“Me? I dinna have a question.” He had many questions, actually, but none were pertinent to the conversation at hand.

“Oh? No? I thought I saw your hand raise…” She grinned then, mischievous little vixen. “Oh, well. Anyone else?”

A couple hands flew in the air, wondering about her salary and marital status. These bored him. He already knew the answers.

* * *

 

He saw her standing by a hand-me-down Imperial Lebaron. She could afford a newer car, no problem, but she didn’t want to. Her uncle fixed it up for her when she got her license. For a woman of math and science, she was a bit of a sentimental.

Jamie ran tiptoed, careful not to splash in the Spring puddles. Arm outstretched, he grabbed a handful of round, white-clad flesh.

She turned indignant, fist already clenched. Feisty wee thing. Her eyes softened then, a honey-whiskey concoction that always soothed his ailments.

She rose to kiss his stubbled cheek.

“And how’s my little collegiate?” There was that smile again, the mischievous one. The one he saw multiple times a day.

“Ach, I’m fine. We had a speaker in class today, ken? The loveliest creature I’ve ever seen…”

“Should I be jealous?” She placed her cheek against his, and whispered in his ear.

“Never,” he breathed back before pulling away. “Why did ye no tell me ye were coming to speak to my class?”

“I wanted to surprise you! You should have seen your face when you looked up and saw me!” She giggled then, dimples pulling at her cheeks.

“I canna believe ye managed to keep it a secret! Yer a terrible liar.”

“Lie by omission. It’s a bit easier.”

“A lovely surprise. Though, I canna say I’m thrilled about this skirt. Ye had boys-barely men!- staring at ye, mouths agape!” He pulled at the hem then, trying to stretch it past her knees. She blushed then, a pink rose blooming on her skin.

“It wasn’t for them,” she mumbled. “It was for you!”

“I ken that fine. But, Christ!”

“Are you going to punish me for it?” She was challenging him, teasing him.

“Aye, Sassenach.” He opened the car door for her. Then, leaning down, nipped her bottom lip. “And ye’ll no like it one bit.”

That grin… Those melting eyes…

“No. I’m sure I won’t…”


End file.
